


Wally Does It Better

by neverfinishe



Category: Blue Beetle (Comics), DC Animated Universe, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canonical References, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Silly, Waiter Jaime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverfinishe/pseuds/neverfinishe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill asking for hot waiter/customer AU.</p><p>Jaime takes the job because his dad won’t let him help in the shop. Bart shows up at the dinner because he has no one else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wally Does It Better

**Author's Note:**

> No beta. Comic references made but knowledge not necessary. The title is just silly, and I didn't have anything better.

Jaime takes the job because his dad won’t let him help in the shop. _It’s too dangerous_ , is the argument that gets spoken every time, but they need the money to compensate for the time his dad can no longer spend on extra shifts.

As it turns out, being a waiter isn’t a bad gig. Most of his customers are nice. Brenda and Paco frequently pop in to chat on slow shifts or sit down to eat, catching him in between tables.

He’s only gotten stiffed once, which he thinks isn’t bad. He’s in the middle of a rough shift when he goes to pick up a table. The family of four has just left. He’s stuck with twice the tables he should be, and he’s playing food runner, waiter, and busboy all rolled into one. He’s exhausted, sore, covered in sweat. He can’t possibly smell good.

It’s not until he dumps the dishes and picks up the check that he realizes there’s no tip. His face falls slightly. The night’s been long; he’d tried hard for that table. No glass went empty for more than a second. Food brought out the moment it was done. Extra condiments when asked. Yet…

He sighs. He gives himself just a moment in a mirror to fix his hair. It’s hopeless. Maybe he should cut it. It’s getting a bit long. Nearly impossible to manage on nights like these. He makes his way back to the dining room.

His next customer is young. Younger than he is by a couple of years. A Junior in high school, maybe. Jaime’s in his first year of college, managing to afford tuition through scholarships and grant money.

Jaime hopes the auburn haired teenager won’t be like so many other teenagers he’s dealt with. He walks up with a bright smile and starts his usual spiel.

“Hi, my name is Jaime, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with a drink?” He’s careful to pronounce his name in a way that he hopes makes it easier for people to repeat, though he doesn’t try so hard anymore. Most people see his name tag and call him ‘Jay-me’.

“Mine’s Bart,” the kid says, looking semi-distracted by his menu. He looks up, mouth open and ready to say something. He stops. Jaime wonders if something’s wrong. “I um- I’ll take a water, thanks.”

“Of course,” Jaime says, smile once again settled on his face. He doesn’t bother writing anything down. “Do you know what you want, or do you need a minute?”

“I- just a minute, sorry,” Bart offers a smile.

“No problem.”

The rest of the night goes on peacefully. The rush of customers dwindles down. Bart stays for awhile, talking to him. He asks a lot of questions, but Jaime doesn’t mind. He’s from out of town, apparently, so he spends a lot of time asking Jaime what he knows about El Paso and Texas in general. It’s a nice way to unwind after such a rough day.

Bart leaves him a tip that’s over fifty percent of his check, which might not seem like much for one person, except that he ordered an appetizer, two entrees, a desert, and a third entree to go. Jaime hadn’t thought he would actually eat it all, or surely someone else was supposed to show up. No one did, and Bart ate every ounce of food on his own.

What he doesn’t expect is to find the third entree boxed up perfectly with a note on it that says ‘for you’. He hasn’t eaten since sometime in the early afternoon. He’s not supposed to accept any gifts from customers, but no one is around and his stomach growls.

-

If Bart finds himself in the same little dinner every week… well, the food is good. If he happens to always show up on days and hours that Jaime works, it’s just a coincidence. Good timing. And if he’s somewhat disappointed when Jaime isn’t there… he’s in denial.

The third time he stops in, he asks Jaime how to say his name. They spend a good five minutes on it. Bart’s not so good with Spanish, but Jaime’s patient. Bart’s grateful for that. He doesn’t have anyone else to really spend time with. It’s pathetic. Stopping into a dinner so frequently just to spend time with the cute college waiter.

Every time after that, Jaime teaches him a new word. He’s always patient, laughing a little at some of the pronunciation that Bart produces. He calls it ‘cute’. They both blush at that, but Jaime finds a reason to escape. A water pitcher that needs filling or ketchup that needs retrieving.

Bart wraps up his dinner early that night.

A month and two weeks into the whole thing, Jaime shows up to his shift twenty minutes late. Bart had figured he traded his shift again or called out. Both happen. Usually it’s the former. Jaime comes across as the kind of guy that bends over backwards for people, so he’s not surprised. What he is surprised by is the black eye, lacerated forehead, and splinted arm.

“You okay, dude?” Bart asks with a raised eyebrow when Jaime comes to take his drink order.

“Yeah, I uh… got caught in the middle of something? I think. I don’t know.”

Jaime sounds dazed. Bart wonders how long ago this ‘something’ happened.

“Yeah, well, you look like you got your butt handed to you, hermano,” Bart says with a frown.

Jaime smiles a little. It’s enough to get Bart to relax. “So what is it today, huh? Two nine ouncers and a cheese cake?”

“You forgot-”

“Yo, Jaime!”

Jaime turns to look before Bart can finish his reply. One of his coworkers is waving an arm in his direction. The motion stops the moment the man’s eyes land on Jaime. “Holy shit, man. You look like hell. You know you can call out sick, right? Or, you know, ‘I look like roadkill’ would be a good excuse too.”

“I’m fine,” Jaime says with a shrug.

“Don’t think so. You’re off today. Can’t have you scaring my customers. Go home.”

It’s then that Bart notices the manager patch stitched into the guy’s shirt. That explains the difference in the uniforms. The man isn’t wearing what the servers do, but his uniform _is_ all black with the company logo on it.

“I- okay. Thanks,” Jaime says. “I’ll just put his order in and go.”

The managers seems pleased with that response. He disappears into the kitchen without another word. 

Jaime sighs. “That sucks,” he mumbles. He knows he shouldn’t say it out loud. He certainly shouldn’t say it so loud in front of a customer.

“Getting an unexpected day off sucks?” Bart asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Does when you don’t have a ride.”

“You don’t have a car?”

“No. My friend usually drops me off. Or I bike. My bike kind of,” he makes a motion over his face, “Took a beating too.”

Bart has to hold back a snicker. It’s not funny. “Bus it is, then?” He gets up.

“Guess so- what are you doing?”

“Making sure you at least make it _on_ to the bus. You really do look rough. What did you do to deserve this?”

“Nothing. Someone said I took their- backpack? I think. There was a lot of yelling,” Jaime explains. He lets Bart walk him out without an argument. A month and two weeks is probably long enough for him to learn that there’s not much point in arguing with Bart. He’s as stubborn as he is perpetually hungry.

They talk the short walk to the stop. On the bus, Jaime teaches him how to say his sister’s name. There’s a chance she will be home, and Bart doesn’t want to start things off on the wrong foot. From what he’s heard about Milagro, she’s a bit short tempered. Maybe that’s just to Jaime, though, or maybe Jaime’s biased. Siblings, he’s heard, tend to go head to head quite often.

As it turns out, Milagro isn’t home. A quick text from Jaime to his mom tells them that she’s at a friend’s house for the afternoon. Jaime’s dad picked up an extra shift at his shop, which meant no one would have been around to watch her.

Jaime drops down on the couch. He groans softly, trying to shift in a way that eases the discomfort. His side feels like it’s on fire.

“Dude, what all did they do to you?”

“I- got a few small burns,” Jaime says with a shrug. “It’s no big deal, really. Thanks for, you know, coming along. That was cool.”

Bart turns his head slightly to hide the blush. He wonders if this whole thing is weird. Too blatant. Maybe he should go, but he isn’t going before he makes sure Jaime’s okay. “do you have a first aid kit or something?”

“Uh, yeah, bathroom, but you don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Around the corner there,” Jaime points. Bart follows. He reemerges with the kit a minute later.

“Take your shirt off, let me see. I mean. I’m no doctor, but I can help you reach- uh, your back and stuff,” he’s definitely not blushing again. No way. Wally would laugh at how horribly he’s doing all of this. Wally would probably already be kissing Jaime, have him completely charmed, assuming Jaime is even gay or bi- or whatever. He’s pretty sure he remembers Jaime mentioning a girl before.

Jaime pulls his shirt off over his head without a word. Bart finds himself staring for a moment. Jaime’s not ripped, but he is muscular. Bart shakes his head, forcing himself to focus. There are also burns covering parts of Jaime’s chest, stomach, and arms. No doubt there are more on his back. “You should have had these treated.”

“I just wanted to get out of there,” Jaime answers honestly. “Figured mom could look later…”

Jaime squirms under his touch. Bart hopes it doesn’t hurt, but some of the burns look pretty painful. He just tries to be as gentle as he can. Jaime closes his eyes, takes in a few deep breaths. Bart uses the opportunity to admire his torso while still working. 

“Lean forward, I- yeah, okay. That’s not so bad,” Bart says, but he reaches for the cream anyways. “I’m just going to put some over your shoulders,” He doesn’t think about the fact that he’s practically straddling Jaime, or that Jaime’s collar is pressed against his chest in order to hold position for Bart.

He grins when he leans back a bit. He doesn’t realize how close their faces are. “There,” he says. Jaime doesn’t respond. Just stares. Bart wonders if something’s wrong. Maybe he should call an ambulance. “Um, Jaime?”

“I-” Jaime swallows. He leans forward, pressing his lips against Bart’s.

Bart’s surprised at first. He doesn’t react. Can’t get his mind to move past what’s happening enough to react. Jaime moves to pull away, but Bart hooks a hand behind his head, careful to avoid burns, and pulls him close again. He kisses him back, deeper this time. He squirms a bit to get more comfortable. It’s then that he notices that Jaime’s half hard. “Oh,” he says with a little grin. Definitely bi.

Jaime kisses him again. Harder, more desperate.

Bart breaks the kiss to trail several over Jaime’s jaw. He’s been wanting to do that since the first time he saw Jaime. There’s a soft moan and a cock of the head that encourages him to keep going.

 

“How old are you?” Jaime breathes out.

Bart laughs. He thinks it would be a mood ruiner if it weren’t sort of enduring. “Seventeen. Legal in Texas, and eighteen in two months for your peace of mind.”

“Thought you said you were a Junior.”

“Moved a lot, remember?” Made keeping up with school a pain.

Jaime does. Bart’s made even happier by that knowledge. Jaime’s listened, caring enough to commit information to memory. He cares enough to make sure that Bart’s old enough to be making potentially stupid decisions, though Bart is doubting more and more that there’s anything stupid about this decision.

Jaime catches his lips in another kiss, effectively shutting up his thoughts.


End file.
